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“Dave, get a grip,” she says, “if we do nothing SnapDragon is going to die, he can’t hunt, right now he needs love and care more than we do.”
Once more, the thoughts are running wild in his head, “there she goes again, calling me Dave again, and quite forcefully this time! And the wolf is called SnapDragon? I don’t believe this is happening to me! Anyway, I have to do as she says. Remember what Chaucer said, if you don’t let the lady be in charge of her own dominion then it’s going to get ugly!”
—o—
Scarcely believing the story at first, Constable Burgess relents and takes NutJob to see CrankyHandle. He’s more accustomed to moving canal boats than moving wildlife, but at least he has a pony and trap!
“She’s sitting up there with an injured wolf, apparently,” says Burgess, “we obviously can’t leave her stranded!”
Bringing his hand to his forehead for a third time now, CrankyHandle says, “I don’t know what to make of young people these days, in my day you just went to school, then you went to work, and you stayed away from wolves!”
“So, NutJob,” says Burgess, “any bright ideas about what we need?”
KristalClear was right. She might not have suggested a pony and trap, but a large blanket or a tarpaulin, plenty of rope, and two long poles were the main tools. Loaded onto the trap with a collection of lockkeeper’s tools, pulleys and assorted junk, the unwitting saviours set off along the River Crake to the path up Colton Hill.
“When we get to the top,” says CrankyHandle, “we’ll tether Primrose, I’m not having her anywhere near a wolf.”
“OK,” says NutJob, “we can manhandle the trap the last bit, as far as the start of the escarpment, but it won’t fit down the narrow pathway.”
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